


Curiosity

by Ayngelcat



Series: "When Optimus had gone...." Elita One and the femmes on Cybertron [3]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Mild Sexual Content, Mild femmeslash - Freeform, Unresolved Sexual Tension, mild sexual references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 08:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayngelcat/pseuds/Ayngelcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for tf_Speedwriting as a sequel to Make Love Not War (http://archiveofourown.org/works/873379)<br/>Prompt: "a nice hot bath."</p><p>Chromia gives a good massage - and provides some interesting information too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curiosity

Elita sank thankfully into the hot bath Chromia had prepared, allowing herself to slide fully under the pleasantly scented water. Submerged, she let the last vestiges of her recent bad dreams float from her processor, imagining them evaporating into the steam above. It was a few clicks before she slowly emerged. 

Chromia was waiting. “Oh good!” the other femme exclaimed. “Y’had me worried there for a click. I was startin’ to think you mightn't be gonna come up again. A soft metal scraping sounded as she rubbed the massage oil into her hands. “All right - well here we go. Sit up straight. This’ll make y’feel a whole heap better.”

She began to massage Elita’s shoulders, rubbing her fingers skillfully into the panel contour seams in well practiced form. Elita offlined her optics, savoring the closeness, the touch. The ache in her spark left by Optimus’ absence was for so much more than just sexual fulfillment. How she missed his caresses, his hand on hers, the feel of his shoulder panels under her cheek, the scent of his alloys...

Tears sprang to Elita’s optics. But she forced them away. She must be strong. In any case, how often had Optimus had time for such activities in the vorn before they left? Hardly at all. No - she should enjoy and appreciate what Chromia could give her now.

Besides, anything was better than those other demons, the thoughts of replacing Optimus with …

“Relax…” Chromia’s fingers dug into the base of Elita’s helm, massaging the suddenly tense neck cords. Elita groaned, sinking into the moment. When Chromia moved back to her shoulders again, she found herself wondering less emotionally about the subject of those demons, about _that other_ occupant of Cybertron, the mystery-shrouded Decepticon who – whether she liked it or not – was on a quest to invade her processor.

Perhaps confronting this was a better solution than avoiding it. “Chromia, I’d like to ask you something,” Elita said. 

“Uh-uh ..” the hands were sliding down her arms, gliding easily on the scented oil covered surface. They lingered on her elbows, then made their way up to her shoulders again. She could feel Chromia’s intakes on her neck. 

“It involves one who is not your favourite subject,” Elita said. 

“Yeah? There’s a few o’them to choose from. Who might this one be?” 

Elita took a deep intake. “Onslaught,” she said. “I just wondered if, back in vorns gone by, when you were still with him, and in audiences with Megatron, did that ever have much to do with – er…” she swallowed, “Shockwave?” 

The hands, which had been on their way down Elita’s arms again, froze at the word ‘Onslaught’ – and such Elita had expected. Elita doubted that in all the eons on Cybertron there had ever actually been a more acrimonious mech/femme bond separation, and Chromia still harboured bitter thoughts, ones Elita did not fully understand. Annoyance turned to a half smirk, however, at the rest of the question. 

“Well now – and why’d you wanna know about that?” 

“I’m just curious,” Elita said, determined not to be rattled. “I mean, did Shockwave...did he _have_ anyone? Was he ever ‘with’ anyone …?” she paused, forming the question she so much wanted an answer to, yet so didn’t. “Did he – interface?”

No – Elita didn’t want to know that at all.

“Well now…” Chromia chuckled. The hands recommenced their ministrations. “Ain’t that a million credit question.”

“I’m serious!” Elita snapped. “Now I’d like an answer, Chromia. And that’s an order!”

“All right all right ..” Chromia’s hands moved in slow, circular strokes. “You want my honest opinion? Shockwave had this _thing_ about Megatron. Mech was besotted - wouldn’t even look at anyone else. Too bad Megs’ optics were right on Starscream by then. Always reckoned things coulda turned out different…”

“How d’you mean, different?” Elita cut in.

“Well…” Chromia paused for a moment, considering, “Shockwave was a scientist, y’see. And a politician. I always got th’ impression he woulda been willing to talk. Now if Megs had just listened instead of having t’prove a point with some power crazy seeker and that _aft_ I was bonded to …”

Chromia tensed again; then recovered. “I don’t _know_ that things woulda turned out any different. But I did kinda think about it sometimes.”

Elita was quiet again. She did not really want to provide Chromia with an opening to rant about Onslaught, as once she got started it was hard to get her to stop. But this was suddenly putting matters in a rather different light. It was – intriguing. Elita wondered – not for the first time – how much Optimus had known but never told her.

“Yep – whatever else, Shockwave always loved Cybertron,” Chromia went on. Her knuckles pressed into Elita’s upper back, leaving pleasant tingles running through the kneaded metal. “An' he wanted the Cons in charge - oh yeah, no doubt about that. But I never was convinced he wouldna settled for a takeover – one we coulda worked with. Mind you, not that Prime n’Ironhide woulda gone for that either; darned mechs ….”

Chromia’s strokes were firm; though mention of Ironhide had softened her again, despite the jibe. The difference in reaction to her two former bondmates was as always, exraordinary. Or maybe not so - Elita didn't know.

"Darn near broke Shockers’ spark when Megs made up his mind that come what may, Starscream was the one he wanted," Chromia said.

She paused. There was a clicking sound, and then the water began to bubble softly around Elita, but not so vigorously as to drown out conversation. Elita slid lower into the water, enjoying the currents. “D’you think Shockwave _missed_ Megatron when he left?” she asked. “Or d’you think by then he’d accepted Starscream?”   

“Oh no, that he never did.”  Chromia said. “I reckon that was part reason why he stayed. He couldn’t have stood another Primus knew how many more eons of seeing Megs with Screamer. He did the one thing he knew he could for Cybertron and Megatron. He stayed behind to look after it. Y’have to admit, we may hate his faction but he ain’t doin' a bad job.”

Elita’s thoughts were spinning, like a tapestry unraveling. This was – unexpected. For she had hated Shockwave, blamed him for the war, for Optimus’ departure; for – everything. Yet he had not gone to continue the fighting, the killing, elsewhere. He had cared for their planet, dutiful – and alone.

And he _missed_ Megatron. Was he – could he possibly be - capable of loving another? Might he be suffering at his loss …. _just as I have over Optimus._

Chromia’s hands were on Elita again, sliding over her chest beneath the bubbling waters in slow, measured strokes. Elita’s spark flared with sudden emotion, bringing with it a sudden tingling in her interface relays, a longing for voids left unfilled. Certain not quite so unpleasant aspects of her recent dreams came vividly to her.

“So,” she shifted, leaning into Chormia’s touch. “You still didn’t answer the last part of my question.”

“About Shockers interfacing?” Chromia's voice was back to a sly smirk. “Truth is, I wouldn’t know …” she leaned over, her hands glided, straying just a little further down than before and kindling some truly nice sensations. “’Reckon you’re just gonna have to ask him that yerself!”


End file.
